


At First Glance

by stratumgermanitivum



Category: Adam (2009), Charlie Countryman (2013), Hannibal Extended Universe - Fandom
Genre: (not between the main characters), (not successful), Alternate Universe - College/University, Attempted Sexual Assault, College, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-19 16:18:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17004990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stratumgermanitivum/pseuds/stratumgermanitivum
Summary: Adam met Nigel completely by accident, when Nigel showed up at his side at a bar and pretended to be his boyfriend to ward off an unwanted admirer. A few weeks later, when Nigel asked Adam to return the favor, Adam couldn't bring himself to say no. It was one of the first lies Adam had ever told, but it was certainly not the last.





	At First Glance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [victorine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/victorine/gifts).



Getting stood up was unpleasant, but getting stood up for a _group project_ , rather than a date, was just odd.

It wasn’t like they could do the work without him. There were four parts to the project, and four members of the group. Yet here Adam was, at the bar his classmates had absolutely _demanded_ they meet at, and no one else was here.

Adam had been nursing the same beer for forty minutes. It had not gotten any better in those forty minutes. In fact, it only grew more distasteful as it warmed. Adam did not like beer, or bars, or crowds, or loud noises. He’d voted for the library, but no one in his group had been willing to bend. Something about wanting to relax after all their hard work.

They hadn’t showed up, though, and after forty minutes, Adam had to concede they probably weren’t going to. He’d just given up and closed out his tab, contemplating the last of his awful-but-too-expensive-to-waste beer, when a heavy arm dropped around his shoulder.

“Raki! Fancy seeing you out and about!”

Adam flinched. The bar his classmates had chosen was popular among the local students, and it was not entirely inconceivable that Adam might run into someone familiar. But he went to a large, crowded school in a large, crowded city, and it seemed unfair that the one person to recognize him would be Marcus Avery.

Marcus had shared a course with Adam the previous semester, an English class that Adam had only taken to meet school requirements. He’d been… persistent, ever since. He stared a lot, a constant presence that sent unpleasant twitches along Adam’s skin. And he flirted, sometimes in ways that went over Adam’s head, and sometimes in blatant, explicit descriptions of the sort of things he thought Adam would be good at.

Today, he’d forgone subtlety. Adam was grateful, because he didn’t have to focus too hard to keep up with what was happening. He was less grateful, because Markus smelled like cheap beer, thick and heavy against Adam’s shoulder.

“So, you finally decided to join the rest of us mortals? Pull your head out of the clouds and get shitfaced like the rest of us?”

Marcus may as well have been speaking in tongues, for all Adam understood of it. He was aware that he was being made fun of, that Marcus was surprised to find him at a bar, but the rest of the intricacies escaped him. He shifted away on his barstool, ducking out from under Marcus’s arms. “I had a group project.”

Marcus snorted. “In a _bar_?” He said, rolling his eyes.

“Yes,” Adam replied, frowning when Marcus laughed and rolled his eyes.

“You’re a riot, Raki.”

Adam didn’t see anything particularly hilarious about the situation, but drunk people were very odd. He started to pull his bag over his shoulder, frowning when it was yanked out of his grasp.

“You can’t be leaving already, Raki, the party just started!” Marcus held the bag just out of reach, and it smacked against the table with a loud thunk.

“My laptop is in there,” Adam protested, reaching for it again. Marcus stepped back, throwing the strap around his neck.

“Come on,” Marcus said, grinning, “Stick around a little. Let me buy you a drink.”

“No thank you,” Adam said, hopping down from the bar stool, “I already had a drink. I didn’t like it.”

“You’ll like this one,” Marcus told him, “Scout’s honor.”

“I don’t think I will.”

Marcus sighed and draped his arm around Adam’s shoulder again, yanking him close. He was shorter than Adam, by several inches, and his tight hold tilted Adam painfully to the side. “Raki,” He said, “Raki, Raki, Raki…”

“It’s just Adam,” Adam protested, but Marcus did not seem to be listening.

“Raki,” He said again, “I’m not going to give you your bag back if you don’t let me buy you a drink.”

There was a flaw in this logic, namely that the bag was Adam’s and retaining it would be theft, but Marcus did not seem to be operating on normal logic. From Adam’s experience, drunk people rarely did.

“If I let you purchase me just _one_ drink,” Adam stressed, “You’ll return my bag and I can leave?”

Marcus frowned. “One drink _that you actually taste_ , Raki, I know all about your weird literal crap.”

“One beverage, and I will drink it,” Adam agreed. Marcus beamed.

“There you go, I knew you could be cool. Sit your pretty ass back down, I’ll be right back.” He disappeared down the bar, Adam’s bag bouncing with every step. Adam watched him with longing; he was tired, and the bar was very loud.

“Do you need help?” Adam startled, spinning on his stool to face a broad man with an unfortunate tattoo of a woman across his neck. Adam stared at the woman for a long moment before he could make his eyes tick up to the man’s face.

“What?”

The man frowned. “With that guy who’s bugging you, do you need help?”

Adam glanced over his shoulder to where Marcus was ordering, Adam’s bag still wrapped around him.

“Yes, please,” he said.

The man nodded. “I’m Nigel,” He said, holding out a hand. Adam shook it hesitantly.

“Adam. Raki.”

“Nice to meet you, Adam Raki. Follow my lead.”

When Marcus came back, he had a tight frown stretched across his features and was holding a drink in a violent shade of red. “Vodka cranberry,” He explained, sliding the drink down the bar towards Adam. “You’ll love it. Who’s this?”

For the second time that night, a heavy arm came down around Adam’s shoulders. This time, it tugged him gently, without yanking him off the stool. Nigel pressed up alongside him, a large barrier from the rest of the room.

“I’m Nigel, who the fuck are you?”

The thin furrow that had developed between Marcus’s eyes grew, as he glanced from Adam to Nigel. Nervous, Adam took a sip of his drink to be polite. He did not, in fact, love it. It burned all the way down, strong and nauseating.

“Marcus Avery,” Marcus said, “I’m a friend of Adam’s.”

“Really?” Nigel drawled, “My darling’s never mentioned you.”

For a moment, Adam did not understand what Nigel’s ‘darling’ had to do with any of this. It took him several long seconds to realize that Nigel was _lying_. Adam was the ‘darling’, then, and this was somehow meant to ‘help’ Adam with Marcus.

Well, Adam was willing to try anything at this point, although he hoped no one would call upon him to contribute to the lie. He took a slightly larger gulp of his drink; it was not any better the second time, but it helped with the worry.

“Darling?” Marcus said, with a funny look on his face that Adam couldn’t parse, “Who, exactly, do you think you are?”

“I think I’m the man who’s going to knock your fucking teeth down your throat, that’s who I think I am,” Nigel informed him, drawing up to his full, substantial height. A bit bigger than Adam, significantly taller than Marcus. He could do it, Adam was certain.

“You’re not fucking Raki, no one’s fucking Raki, everybody knows it,” Marcus said dismissively. Adam hid a frown in another sip of his drink.

“Maybe not everyone goes bragging every time they get their dick wet,” Nigel told him, “I like to think Adam and I are a bit classier than that, aren’t we gorgeous?” He turned his dark eyes on Adam, and his frown softened. “Hey,” he said softly, plucking the drink from Adam’s hands, “You don’t have to drink that if you didn’t want it. In fact, I insist that you don’t.”

With nothing left to hide behind, Adam dropped his hands into his lap to fidget with the hem of his shirt. Marcus rolled his eyes.

“Give it back, man, I paid good money for that.”

“Good money for cheap swill,” Nigel drawled, sliding the glass down the bar. “My darling deserves better.”

“You’re not his fucking boyfriend, asshole, he’s been sitting there alone since I walked in.”

Nigel waved one arm wide and used the other to guide Adam from the stool. Adam wobbled a bit once he got to his feet. “I know it’s rude to be late for a date,” Nigel said, pressing a kiss to the top of Adam’s head and drawing a blush to Adam’s face, “But I didn’t know it was a _crime_. Best be off, sweetheart, before dear Marcus calls the cops on us.”

“I don’t think he’s going to do that,” Adam mumbled, focus zeroing back in on his bag.

“Ah, right,” Nigel said, releasing Adam. He reached out for the bag, glaring when Marcus took a shaky step back. “I’m not leaving without Adam’s things.”

Marcus looked from Nigel’s hands to the bag, and drew himself up. It didn’t look nearly as impressive as when Nigel had done it, but Adam thought that would be rude to point out.

“Fine,” Marcus said, shoving the bag into Nigel’s hands. “Take the fucking thing. And you,” He added, turning his glare on Adam, “Don’t let a guy buy you a drink if you’ve got a fucking boyfriend.”

“I didn’t want the drink,” Adam reminded him, but Marcus didn’t seem to care. He turned back to Nigel.

“Good luck, asswipe. The guy’s impossible. I only bought him a drink because I thought it might make him easy.”

Adam blinked. That was one that went over his head, and he struggled to connect the dots. Nigel, who’s fist was clenching, appeared to have no such issues.

“You wanna try that again?” Nigel asked, but Adam had more pressing issues.

“I don’t understand.”

Marcus groaned. “Fucking… ‘Easy,’ Raki. Fucking hot for it, slutty, loose. I bought you a drink because I hoped it’d help you spread your legs.”

Some of those still went over Adam’s head, but he recognized ‘slutty’ and had heard ‘spread your legs’ before. “You bought me a drink because you wanted to have sex with me,” He realized, and something about saying it out loud must have been too much for Nigel.

Marcus, as it turned out, could easily have been dealt with in a single blow, had Adam been so inclined. Nigel hit him hard, a heavy fist across his jaw, cutting a slice in his lip. With some fascination, Adam realized he could already see the makings of the bruise that would develop.

“Fucking piece of shit,” Nigel said, dragging Adam close again. Marcus staid down, whimpering when Nigel’s boots came too close to his face. “Come on, Darling, let’s leave before they throw me out.”

“I don’t think you’ll be allowed back into this bar,” Adam supplied as Nigel led him towards the door.

“Won’t be the first one, Adam, won’t be the last.”

“Oh. You should work on that.”

Nigel barked out a laugh, tugging Adam out into the night. “Yeah, gorgeous, I probably should.”

The night was chilly, just enough to send a shiver through Adam. “Thank you,” He said, “You can go now.”

Nigel didn’t release his grip on Adam’s shoulders. If anything, it only seemed to grow tighter as they walked.

“I’m not so sure I should do that,” Nigel said slowly, staring at Adam. “You’ve had a bit of a shock, and I’m not sure that guy wouldn’t be up for a second go.”

“I think he’s afraid of you.”

“Yeah, well, won’t be so afraid of me when I’m not here.”

“I think he’ll still be afraid of you,” Adam said, tripping over his own feet. He hadn’t thought he’d had that much to drink, but he’d been wobbling back at the bar, now that he thought about it.

“Adam,” Nigel said, holding Adam up by the shoulders when he stumbled over another step, “Adam, how much did you drink back at the bar.”

“I had a beer,” Adam mumbled, rubbing vaguely at his aching eyes. His hand seemed like it belonged to somebody else, clumsy and numb. “And three sips of a vodka cr’nberry.”

“That’s what I fucking thought,” Nigel muttered, and then they both took a tumble as Adam’s legs gave out.

Nigel barely managed to keep Adam from sprawling across the sidewalk, propping him up against his shoulder. Adam was dizzy. The whole world was a fuzzy, hazy mess, and he was dimly aware that this was probably not what vodka was meant to feel like.

“I should call the- fuck!” Nigel swore, “Look, Adam, I can’t be here when the cops show up. I’ve had a run of trouble lately. But I won’t be far, okay, you’ll still be safe.”

“Don’t call the cops,” Adam begged, clinging to Nigel’s jacket. He thought he might throw up. “They’ll call my dad and they’ll ask so many… so many questions.” He was tired. He’d never been so tired before.

“I’m gonna go back to that bar and fucking murder that guy.”

“Please don’t do that, either,” Adam mumbled towards the ground. Beside him, Nigel sighed, and then the whole world tilted again as he hoisted Adam up into his arms.

“Don’t worry, darling. I’m not going anywhere. You just rest, alright? Sleep it off, I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

Adam had met him less than twenty minutes ago, but as his eyes went cross-eyed staring at Nigel’s tattoo, Adam realized he believed him. That was the last thought Adam had for a long while.

\-----

There were things Adam remembered, later, bits and pieces. Nigel would assure him later that even those early memories had only come hours after the fact.

But he was aware of the smell of cigarette smoke, subtle and faint. The softness of a pillow. Nigel prodding him onto his side rather than his stomach

Vomit, unexpected and spilling down his chin.

A rough voice in a foreign language, harsh and sharp as Nigel pressed his hair away from his face.

Wet cloth across his face and then down into sleep again.

Awake, again. Blue, the deep blue of the sheets.

Sleep.

Awake, headache, ow, awake awake _awake_.

When Adam finally managed some blurry form of consciousness, it was with a wavering, pained cry. He still felt nauseous, could still taste the stomach acid from earlier. The morning seemed to come all at once; one moment, he was still deeply under, and the next the sun was bright and painful in his eyes.

Adam managed another pained warble before he managed any motion, the soft drum of his fingertips against cobalt blue sheets. This was not his bed, he knew, but the pieces were not yet coming together.

Just rolling onto his back sent another burst of agony through his head, but the motion brought with it a new glimpse, that of a blond man sprawled out alongside him in bed, blinking awake.

“Hey,” Nigel whispered, reaching out to brush the hair from Adam’s eyes, “Feeling better?”

Adam closed his eyes and leaned into the cool touch, whimpering softly and struggling to clear his throat. “I think I’m sick,” He finally managed.

“I think you’ve been _roofied_ ,” Nigel corrected. Adam peered at him from under heavy lashes.

“Oh,” He said softly, “That makes sense.”

Nigel sat up, tugging damp sheets a little higher over Adam’s shoulders. “It’ll wear off. You’re already better than the last time you woke up. You just need a little more rest and something thick and greasy for your stomach.”

“I don’t like greasy foods.”

“You’re just gonna have to trust me on this one, darling, I’ve got a bit more experience with drugs than you do.”

Adam thought that over and conceded that Nigel likely had a point. “No eggs?” He pleaded, “I can’t stand the texture.”

“No eggs,” Nigel agreed, “But toast and bacon, alright?”

“Toast and bacon,” Adam mimicked, closing his eyes.

It was a small apartment. Adam hadn’t gotten a good look at it, but he could hear that Nigel’s footsteps never left the room, never grew muffled down a hall. He was, possibly, attempting to be quiet, but Adam still heard occasional clanging and whispered curses. They didn’t help his headache, but it was rude to complain about people when they were cooking you a meal. Adam snuggled deeper into the pillow and drifted in a haze of good smells and bad sounds.

Soon enough, the bed dipped beside him, and a calloused hand brushed against his shoulder. “Hey,” Nigel said, “You awake?”

“M’awake,” Adam mumbled, trying to sit up. That made everything go a little sideways, and in the end, Nigel grabbed him under the arms and hoisted him into a sitting position, propped up with pillows. Adam kept his eyes closed until the overwhelming urge to vomit finally left him.

“There you are,” Nigel said cheerfully, once Adam could finally look at him again. He settled a battered plastic tray into Adam’s lap. Adam frowned down at it.

“I don’t think you’re allowed to take these from the food court,” He said, poking distrustfully at thick slabs of bacon.

“Nope,” Nigel agreed, “But they charged me enough in tuition that I figured they owed me.”

“I don’t think it works that way,” Adam protested, but Nigel had apparently gotten bored with waiting for Adam to eat, and the next time he opened his mouth, Nigel shoved a slice of bacon into it.

Bacon was unpleasantly damp, but it tasted good. And Adam, as it turned out, was starving despite the headache. He’d missed dinner, and according to the clock on the bedside table, he’d missed his usual breakfast time by several hours. He wolfed down another two slices of bacon before Nigel finally pressed two aspirin tablets into his hand, gesturing to a glass of water by the clock.

“I didn’t call the cops,” Nigel said softly, swiping a slice of toast. “You seemed pretty adamant that I shouldn’t.”

Adam didn’t entirely remember that conversation, but it sounded like something he would have said.

“I had an incident with police once,” He explained between bites, “When I was seventeen. It wasn’t my fault, my dad said. Just wrong place, wrong time. I matched the description of the man they were looking for, and they spoke too fast and asked too many questions. I couldn’t keep up. I…” Adam hesitated, glanced away. “I have this thing… It’s called Asperger’s syndrome. It means-“

“I know what it means,” Nigel said, “Fuck, Adam, you had to be so freaked out.”

“I was very confused,” Adam agreed, “And so were the police. I ended up in handcuffs. I… I had a meltdown,” He admitted, face red, “I was screaming at them and they were screaming at me. It was bad. My dad made me carry an ID card after that.”

“They make ID cards for autism?”

“Asperger’s,” Adam corrected, “And yes, it’s like having a medical alert bracelet. I keep it next to my state-issued ID, but I haven’t needed to use it since.”

“Fucking pigs,” Nigel swore, which Adam thought was a bit of an overreaction. “This is why I didn’t want to involve them, anyway.”

“They were just doing their jobs,” Adam pointed out, but Nigel seemed very insistent on glaring down at the bedsheets.

“Yeah, well, maybe they should stick to shit they actually know how to do,” Nigel muttered, running his thumb over a scar on his arm. “Always running after people without any fucking _proof_.”

“You had an incident with the cops?”

Nigel shrugged. “They couldn’t prove I was the one who’d procured the coke. I mean, I was, but they couldn’t _prove_ that. Didn’t stop them from getting a few good hits in.”

Adam thought this revelation should have surprised him, but it didn’t. He fiddled with his cooling breakfast. “I can see that you’re upset,” He said slowly, “But I don’t know how to fix it.”

Nigel let out a short bark of a laugh. It was pleasing, unique to him. Adam liked the rough smile that came with it. “You don’t need to do a thing, darling, except eat your breakfast, and then take a nap while I go hunt down Mr. Date Rapist.”

Adam frowned. “Marcus? I don’t think you should ‘hunt’ Marcus.”

“You forget already what he fucking did to you?”

“Of course I didn’t,” Adam protested, shoving the tray out of his lap. It wobbled but did not spill. He almost wished it would have, to end this conversation.

Nigel took the tray and set it down on the floor, out of the way. The expression on his face was unreadable, beyond Adam’s memorized cue cards of Happy-Sad-Angry. Nigel reached out and took one of Adam’s hands in both of his.

“If you don’t want me to go after him, then you need to let me drop you off at the police station.” Adam shook his head, even though it rattled the pain into a new vibrancy. Nigel squeezed his hand. “He’ll do it to someone else, Adam.”

Adam shrugged, uncomfortable. “I don’t want him to,” He said softly, “But I can’t prove he did it to _me_. And as the… As the victim, I would need evidence. They can’t just take my word for it. And he didn’t… He didn’t touch me.”

Nigel swore under his breath, “And none of this shit ever lasts long enough for a drug test.”

“Besides,” Adam added with a tight smile, “Then I would have to talk to… to the fucking pigs.”

Nigel let out a low whistle. “Adam fucking Raki. Was that a joke?”

“Yes, but I don’t think it was a very good one.”

Nigel chuckled. “Sure fucking wasn’t, but I appreciate the effort.” He sighed. “If you won’t report it, then I’m going after him, Adam. That’s non-negotiable.”

“What will you do when you find him?” Adam asked. Nigel looked away from him.

“Not gonna fucking kill him, if that’s what you’re asking. Just gonna have a friendly little chat. Maybe rough him up a bit, remind him how nice boys treat potential partners.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Nigel snorted. It was not as nice as his genuine, amused laughter. “The kid’s like, half my size.”

“His friends aren’t.”

Nigel turned back to Adam, and the smile he wore showed all his teeth. “He’s not the only one with big friends, darling.”

Adam did not have an argument for that. He was not sure there _was_ an argument that would convince Nigel. He let Nigel press him back into the bed, already exhausted again.

“You don’t even know me,” Adam mumbled into the pillow.

“I know enough,” Nigel said with a shrug. “I know you’re a smart kid, I’ve seen you at the computer labs on campus. I know you carry your whole goddamn life in that bag of yours, and I know that you are excessively, refreshingly literal. I don’t need to know you at all to be angry at that guy, Adam, but I know you enough to be fucking _furious_.”

Adam closed his eyes, breathing in the lingering scent of smoke and bacon. “Nobody’s ever beat someone up for me before,” He said sleepily. Nigel’s hand smoothed his curls back again.

“Yeah?” He said, almost too soft for Adam to catch, “Maybe they should have.”

\-----  
The next time Adam saw Marcus Avery, he had two huge, dark bruises, one from where Nigel had punched him in the jaw, and another blackening his eye. He walked with a limp for over a week, and never spoke to Adam again. When they shared a classroom or a hallway, he would place himself as far from Adam as he possibly could. One, they’d walked into the same restroom, and Marcus had fled as if _Adam_ was the one who had hit him.

Adam couldn’t bring himself to feel any sort of guilt over it. His fingers still shook slightly when he saw Marcus, echoes of headache pounding through him, and he could no longer drink cranberry juice. He’d liked cranberry juice.

Nigel, on the other hand, he saw quite a bit of. He’d inferred from their conversations that Nigel was an international student, Romanian, in fact. He’d had some sort of incident with an RA that he refused to talk about, but it had made dorm life difficult and explained the tiny apartment he stayed in. Nigel studied business, had a talent with numbers that was mildly intimidating, and somehow seemed to know everyone on campus.

It was this knowledge that had presumably allowed him to keep finding Adam. They ate lunch together now, every day but Thursdays, when Nigel had some sort of club meeting or appointment. Dinner too, whenever their schedules lined up. Adam had never had anyone to share meals with before, and he found he liked it. He and Nigel didn’t have any shared classes, but their subjects overlapped at the edges, and if they spread all their study materials over the entire table, nobody else tried to bully them to a smaller one. Somewhere along the line, after Nigel was nearly late to class because he’d stayed an extra hour to listen to a tangent Adam went on about String Theory, Adam realized they were friends.

He made this shocked observation out loud. Nigel had laughed and ruffled his hair on his way by. “ _Best_ friends, darling, don’t you think?”

And maybe it had only been a few weeks of knowing each other, only half the semester, but Adam spent more time with Nigel than he ever had with anyone else.

“I need a favor,” Nigel said one day, between bites of a cheeseburger and differential equations.

Adam eyed him dubiously. He was vaguely aware of the sorts of things Nigel got up to when Adam was not around, and he suddenly had flashes of half-remembered DARE demonstrations in elementary school. “What kind of favor?”

Nigel took one look at Adam’s scrunched up face and started to laugh. “I’m not going to ask you to sell coke, Adam, you can settle down.”

“Oh,” Adam said. It occurred to him that maybe he should lie and say he hadn’t thought about it, but he was not very good at lying. “What kind of favor?” He asked again, far less suspicious this time.

Nigel glanced down at his tray, and a slight pink tone spread over his cheeks. Adam’s suspicions went right back up again. “It’s a bit of an odd thing, darling. You remember my Gabi?”

“Your ex with the ass of an angel and the miserable cunt boyfriend?”

“That’s the one.”

Adam frowned. “It would be very difficult for me to forget her, Nigel, you talk about her a _lot_.”

“Not so much lately!” Nigel insisted with a frown. Adam suspected he’d insulted him, somehow, though he wasn’t quite sure how. “I’ve been doing much better.”

“Yes,” Adam agreed, “You’ve only mentioned her three times in the past two weeks. That’s very good, for you.”

“Always have to aim for the heart, don’t you darling?” Nigel chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, anyway, Gabi’s decided she’d like to be friends.”

That sounded like Gabi, from what Nigel had told him about her, although Adam suspected very few people could actually live up to the way Nigel talked about Gabi.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Nigel,” Adam warned, “Friends are not supposed to punch their friend’s boyfriends.”

“I only hit him _once_ ,” Nigel protested, “And it wasn’t even that hard. He got back up again!”

“I would be more concerned if he hadn’t,” Adam said flatly.

“Now’s not the time for the Adam Raki comedy hour,” Nigel told him, “I really need this favor.”

“I really need you to tell me what the favor is, first.”

Nigel flushed. “Look, it’s just… She didn’t want to talk to me, at first. She was still really mad about the whole punching thing.”

“A reasonable thing to be mad about.”

“Hush, Adam. Anyway, she didn’t want to talk to me and we have that Statistics class together, and it was making things really awkward so… I kind of told her I was seeing someone.”

“You lied to her,” Adam summed up.

“Just a little lie,” Nigel assured him.

“It was still a lie.” But Nigel was a stubborn man, and he lied all the time, though he was always honest with Adam. Adam sighed.

“What does this have to do with me?” He asked. Nigel gave him a small, tight smile.

“Well, darling, she said she’d hoped as much, when she saw me eating lunch with them.”

“But you only eat lunch with-“ Nigel was smiling at him, expectant. Adam’s brain caught up with his mouth halfway through the sentence. “She thinks we’re dating.”

“Apparently, darling, half the fucking class thinks we’re dating.”

Adam thought about how their friendship must look like from the outside. Adam had gone from eating alone to sharing almost every meal with a man who touched him constantly, carried his lunch tray for him, and called him ‘darling.’ He supposed that could look a little bit like dating, to someone who did not know Nigel, but Adam knew Nigel and…

“But you’re not gay.”

Nigel frowned. “Neither are you,” He pointed out, “But I still catch you checking out guys.”

“Well, yes, but I’m bisexual, I-“ Adam trailed off. Nigel was giving him that patient smile again. “Oh. Oh! You didn’t say anything!”

Nigel shrugged. “You didn’t ask.”

“I didn’t ask what it was like to try cocaine, either, but you still explained that. In detail.”

Nigel looked vaguely uncomfortable. “Yeah, well, coming out’s not the easiest thing in the world, is it?”

“I guess not.” It had been for Adam, who had never been taught that it was something to be embarrassed about, because it had never occurred to his father to tell him anything about it at all. And it wasn’t like he had any friends to lose in the first place, so he’d never had to worry about telling them. But Nigel came from an entirely different experience, and things must have been harder for him. It must have-

The final piece clicked into place. Adam’s mind tended to travel down a dozen different paths at once. He could be thinking about one thing, move on to the next, and still have that old topic in mind. He’d developed a rather confusing habit of continuing conversations minutes or even hours later, when his conversational partner had already forgotten the original subject. He did that now, jumping back several sentences, realization overtaking him.

“You want me to lie to your ex-girlfriend so that she’ll be friends with you and stop giving you funny looks in your Statistics class.”

Nigel winced. “Well, when you put it that way, you make it sound awful.”

“What other way should I put it?” Adam’s question had been genuine, but it sent another flinch through Nigel.

“Helping a friend?” Nigel said. “Look, it’s just for a little while, just until she’s more comfortable, and then we can have a quiet little breakup and just be friends, alright?”

Adam stared at him. “You know this isn’t likely to get her to date you again, right?”

“I don’t want to date her again,” Nigel said, and though he had been babbling about Gabi for as long as Adam had known him, Adam thought it might be the truth. “That was. It was painful, alright? It sucked when we broke up, but it was definitely for the best. I just… She’s amazing, Adam, she’ll always be amazing. I just want her to stop looking at me like I’m scum, okay? I want her to see the good in me again.”

Nigel was frowning down at his food. He wouldn’t look at Adam. He looked closed-off from Adam. Adam hated it.

“Okay,” He found himself saying. Nigel jerked his head up, startled.

“What?”

“Okay. I’ll pretend to be your boyfriend in front of Gabi.”

Surprisingly, this did not draw the tight frown from Nigel’s face. “It’s… It’s a bit more than that, actually.”

Adam paused. “How _much_ more?”

“We’ve got a double date on Friday.”

“Nigel!”

\-----  
Gabi was pretty. Adam understood what Nigel saw in her. More than pretty, she was sweet. The very first thing she did when they met up outside the movie theater was hug him.

Adam hated to be touched by people he didn’t know, but it was the thought that counted. Besides, Nigel was staring so intently that Adam just patted her back and did not complain.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Gabi.” He said.

Gabi pulled back to smile at him. “And you, Adam.” She had a soft, lilting accent that reminded Adam pleasantly of Nigel. Nigel said that they were from the same city, back in Romania, but they’d never met before coming to America. He said it like it was something important, but Adam privately thought that Bucharest was a very large city, and it wasn’t like Adam knew everyone from New York.

Nigel was a bit of a romantic, though, and Adam tried not to be rude about it, even if he didn’t understand.

“Gabi,” Nigel said, in a soft voice Adam had never heard before. He took her hands and pressed a kiss to the back of each one. For a moment, they stared at each other, and Adam had the distinct, uncomfortable feeling of being outside something he could never understand.

Then, that moment ended, and Nigel dropped her hands to wrap an arm around Adam’s shoulders. “Darling,” He said, in a different voice entirely, “This is Charlie Countryman.”

Charlie waved cheerfully. He had a wide, contagious grin that had not faltered even when Gabi and Nigel were staring at each other, and long, slightly unkempt hair. Adam was glad to see that the punch had not left any long-lasting damage; he had a decently attractive face that it seemed unfair to ruin.

Nigel cleared his throat, when no one said anything else. “So. Movies?”

Gabi wanted to sit by Adam, to Adam’s surprise and Nigel’s visible disappointment, clear even to Adam. He got over it fairly quickly, though, and by the time they were all seated with popcorn, an easy smile had returned to Nigel’s face. Adam thought it might even be genuine, although he would not have been the best judge.

“I’ve been very excited for this movie,” Gabi whispered in his ear, “Do you like scary things, Adam?”

Adam did not. In fact, had Adam been there when the date was planned, he might have mentioned that he hated movie theaters in general. Loud and crowded and bright, flashing lights and sounds. But Nigel had been so eager, and Adam was learning that it was very difficult for him to deny Nigel anything he wanted.

“I appreciate special effects,” Was the closest thing to the truth Adam could supply her. She gave him a funny look, but Adam did not have the time to appreciate it; Nigel had just slid their fingers together.

Nigel was not looking at him when the lights went out, but he kept a tight grip on Adam’s hand. The last person to hold Adam’s hand had been his father, guiding him through New York City traffic. This was entirely different. For one, Adam’s hand was a lot bigger now. It slotted nicely into Nigel’s. For another, Nigel’s hands were rougher than his father’s had been.

And, most importantly, Adam had not been sexually attracted to his father.

This was a thought that had been bubbling just under the surface the entire time Adam had known Nigel, but it was something he hadn’t given much focus to. After all, he’d been relieved just to have a friend, and Adam really had no interest in the complexities of dating.

But now, Nigel was holding Adam’s hand in a dark theater, and Adam had to admit it was actually very pleasant.

Until about five minutes into the movie.

The thing about horror movies, the very worst thing, was not the screaming. It was the _score_. Aggressive, uncanny noises, shrill and sharp and entirely out of nowhere. They jerked through Adam in sharp bursts, radiating through his skull. He whimpered with each one.

“Hey,” Gabi whispered to him, “It is okay. When they say it is based on a true story, that is just something they say to sell the films.”

Adam nodded, or he thought he did. It wasn’t the ghosts that bothered him. Adam didn’t believe in ghosts.

But as another creeping, hulking _thing_ ran by in the background and the violins began to shriek again, Adam hunched in on himself.

He folded over in his seat, crouched low over his knees. His head was pounding. He yanked his hand free of Nigel’s and smacked it hard against his temple, once, twice, then a third time, trying to find the right pattern that would make the world stop jerking and jolting. Everything was too much, too loud. Behind him, Gabi whispered something he didn’t catch, and then strong arms wrapped around Adam and pulled him up out of the seat.

Adam struggled at first, hurting and confused.

“Shhh,” Nigel’s voice whispered in his ear as he dragged Adam towards the door, “Shh, darling, it’s okay, we’re leaving, it’ll be done soon.”

Adam lashed out at him, hand smacking ineffectively against the bulk of Nigel’s bicep. Nigel huffed out a breath and then bent, scooping Adam up into his arms the way he had the first night they met.

Adam was barely aware through most of this. What he knew, the things that lingered, was the scream of the instruments, the flash of light from the screen, the stares of the people they passed, the thump thump thump of his own heart somewhere in his throat.

Nigel took him out one of the back exits, to the empty alley behind the theater. He collapsed to the ground with Adam in his lap, hushing and rocking him like Adam’s father had done when he was a child. Adam attempted to smack at his pounding head again and found both arms swiftly caught and pinned to his chest.

“Shh,” Nigel whispered again. “Listen, listen to me. It’s quiet out here, yeah? Quiet and dark, just you and me. Deep breaths, Adam, in and out.”

Adam mimicked the rise and fall of Nigel’s chest, shaky and uncertain. It took a long time for everything to stop pounding, and when it did, Adam felt the familiar trickle of loathing creep into him.

He didn’t have meltdowns very often anymore. He knew his triggers and what to avoid. Nigel had never seen one in the two months they’d known each other.

But now, Adam had completely ignored his own warning signs, and for what? A date that was nothing but artifice, and now Nigel knew. He knew what Adam was like under the surface, the wild, feral thing that lay in wait for a chance to freak out.

“They’re going to hate me,” Adam mumbled into Nigel’s shirt. “You’re going to hate me.”

“I don’t know how anyone who got to know you could hate you,” Nigel told him, voice soft.

“It happens a lot.”

“Adam, darling,” Nigel cupped his chin and tilted Adam’s head up until there was nowhere to look but Nigel. “If they hate you, then we’ll never see them again, alright?”

“But Gabi-“

“If she hates you, then she’s not the Gabi I knew, and I want nothing to do wither.”

Adam stared at Nigel, disbelieving, uncertain. Nigel huffed out a laugh and pressed a kiss to his curls. “Adam,” He said, “You’re my best friend. You’re the only one who puts up with me. I’m not going anywhere.”

And he didn’t.

\-----  
Gabi, as it turned out, didn’t hate him. Neither did Charlie. They met them at the mouth of the alley, well before the movie was meant to be over.

“We were gonna come sooner,” Charlie explained, clapping a hand onto Adam’s shoulder, “But Gabi thought you two might need a few minutes alone. You alright, buddy?”

Adam had never been anybody’s ‘buddy.’ Even with Nigel, he was ‘darling,’ ‘sweetheart,’ and occasionally ‘smartass.’ It was an odd feeling. He decided he liked it.

“I’m alright,” He said, “I’m sorry I ruined your movie.”

Gabi had a tight furrow between her brows and a smudge to her makeup that might have been a tear. She clasped Adam’s hands in hers and shook her head. “You didn’t ruin anything,” She said, fierce and firm, “This is my fault. I had heard that you had some difficulties. I should have ensured that we picked something that would be fun for you as well.”

‘Difficulties’ was an interesting way to put it. Adam did not argue. Instead, he let Nigel pull him back against his chest with an arm around his waist. “Maybe next time, we’ll do something a little quieter,” He said into Adam’s curls.

“I like picnics,” Adam suggested. Everybody stared at him.

“Really,” Gabi asked, “Picnics?”

Adam shrugged. “I like to people watch.”

“Gabi _loves_ picnics,” Charlie explained. Nigel’s arm tightened around Adam.

“Lots of picnics in Bucharest,” Nigel said, “Practically tripping over blankets.”

“It can be a beautiful city,” Gabi said, smiling, “I like to be outside.”

“A picnic, then!” Charlie said, and his voice was too loud and too bright, but his smile was infectious. Adam grinned.

\-----  
It was not until later that Adam realized he’d agreed to another fake date, but by then, Gabi had texted him a dozen details, and it was too late to back out. Besides, a picnic was hardly the worst way to spend his day.

Nigel took his hand just outside of Central Park, with a shrug and a little quirk of his lips. Adam clung to that grip as they made their way to the meeting place. Nigel never hesitated, when he touched Adam, never faltered.

And he kept touching Adam, through that picnic, and the one after that. Gabi and Charlie joined them for dinner at least twice a week, and Nigel pressed up closer to Adam’s side, holding him close, trailing fingers down Adam’s arms, hooking a fingertip under the hem of his sleeve to brush little patterns against his veins. For an act, it was all incredibly thorough.

A month into the lie, Nigel kissed him goodbye, just a soft press of lips to Adam’s own, while Gabi giggled across the table. And Adam realized, with a growing dread, that he had made a very big mistake.

\------  
“Finals are stupid,” Charlie declared, collapsing backwards across the beanbag chair he’d claimed in the center of the sound-proofed study room. Nigel gave him an irritated glare. They’d learned to tolerate each other, over the weeks, but while Charlie seemed genuinely fond of anyone who crossed his path, Adam suspected that Nigel would never entirely forgive Charlie for Gabi. Even if Nigel had finally stopped giving Gabi those funny looks.

“They’re _testing our knowledge_ ,” Nigel insisted, “Think of it as a challenge. You’re competitive, right? Here’s something for you to compete at.”

Adam resisted the urge to point out that Nigel was just repeating what Adam had told him when Nigel had made the same complaint two nights ago. Nigel always pouted if Adam appeared to be taking Charlie’s side in one of their petty arguments.

Charlie had slouched over one beanbag, and Nigel had reluctantly sprawled himself across another, but Gabi and Adam were both responsible people, and had taken the table with its hard wooden chairs. Adam had always been wary of comfortable seating when studying. It seemed to exist solely to be distracting and tiring.

“I don’t _want_ to be challenged,” Charlie complained, “I want to be _done_.”

“Aren’t you pre-med?” Adam piped up. Charlie shot him a thumbs up and went back to pouting.

“Ignore him, Adam,” Gabi muttered, highlighting a sentence, “He is just grumpy because he had to get clean for internships. They drug test,” She added, when Adam looked confused.

“Oh.” Adam filed away ‘clean’ in the list of slang he hadn’t known and shot Charlie a wary glance. “Shouldn’t he be in a hospital?”

Charlie raised his hand again, this time thumbs down, and made a buzzing sound. “Don’t you worry about me, Adam, I don’t do any of the hard stuff, nothing that sinks its claws into you. But it’d still show up on the test, and my friends are hassling me.

“That is because your friends are idiots who don’t know how to have fun _without_ being high,” Gabi whispered under her breath. Charlie heard her anyway, but Adam did not think Charlie was capable of being offended. He merely shrugged.

“Yeah, they’re kinda dumb.”

From his chair, Nigel huffed. “This is ridiculous, I’m going for coffee. You want anything, sweetheart?”

“I’d like a mocha,” Charlie piped up. Nigel kicked his beanbag.

“I wasn’t asking you, I was asking Adam.”

“I don’t like coffee,” Adam reminded him, “But Gabi likes those pumpkin lattes.”

“One pumpkin latte for the lovely lady, then,” Nigel agreed, pressing a kiss to the top of Adam’s head. “It doesn’t have to be coffee, darling. You like those hot chocolates, right? The ones with the sprinkles?”

Adam frowns and tilts his head back to look at him. “Yes, but those are from the expensive café. You said they were overpriced for too little drink.”

“Only the best for my darling,” Nigel said, leaning in to kiss him.

They did this more often, now, when the four of them were together. Little pecks to lips or cheeks. Adam was even learning to initiate. It still sent a shock through him, every time.

“One pumpkin spice latte,” Nigel repeated as he straightened up, “One overpriced hot chocolate for my angel. And a mocha for the future drop out.”

“I love you too, Nigel,” Charlie said with a victorious wave of his fist. Nigel flipped him off on his way out the door.

When Adam’s heart stopped pounding in his chest, and he could finally turn back to the table, he found that Gabi was staring at him. She had a tiny smile on her face, soft and sweet, and her eyes had scrunched up like they did when Charlie surprised her with chocolates or flowers at dinner.

“You really do love him, don’t you?”

Adam meant to lie to her, but what came out of his mouth was horrifyingly, painfully true.

“I think I do.” He went suddenly pale, the knowledge of what he’d said hanging heavy over him.

Gabi giggled, reaching out to pat the back of his hand “You didn’t tell him yet, did you?”

“Don’t tell him,” Adam begged, flipping his hand over to grip at hers. Gabi ran the soft pads of her fingers over the hummingbird flutter of Adam’s pulse.

“He hasn’t called you angel before, at least, not in front of us.” Her voice was soft. Adam couldn’t place the tone. “Do you know, he used to call me that, just before he fell asleep. When all his walls went down, he would say I was his very own angel, sent from heaven. I haven’t heard him say that in a long time.”

Adam didn’t understand why she was telling him this, why she was saying any of it where Charlie and Adam could hear. He didn’t want to know what Nigel had called her. He didn’t want to think about the lies they had spun together.

There was an ominous creak as Charlie sank down into a chair alongside Adam, too rough for cheap school furniture. He placed one hand over Gabi’s and the other on Adam’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry, Adam. Gabi’s smart about this stuff. Girls usually are.”

Gabi rolled her eyes. “Boys could be smart about it too, if they tried. Nothing about being a girl makes me better at love.”

Charlie shrugged, “And yet, you’re the best at it that I know.”

“Flatterer.” Gabi swatted at Charlie, who laughed and swatted back. The moment, whatever it was, broke.

When Nigel came back, he knocked Charlie out of the seat next to Adam and pressed his lips against the soft curve of Adam’s throat. Adam’s heart beat its hummingbird pattern, until he thought he might die from the strain of it.

He survived that night, and the next, but his heart never did stop making its presence known.

\-----  
Nigel and Gabi did not go back to Bucharest for the break. Nigel had his apartment, and Gabi was staying with Charlie, his mother, and his stepfather for the first few weeks of summer break. She would be gone for the second half, but when the fall semester started up again, they would all be back for their final year.

Adam tried to think of a way to tell Nigel he couldn’t do it anymore. He could not spend two more semesters with the echo of Nigel’s lips against his skin, distracting him from his homework, from his classes. He tried to come up with trips Nigel would hate, things that had always bored his classmates, and found that Nigel accompanied him to every one. Nigel at the observatory, Nigel at the planetarium, Nigel and Gabi and Charlie at the museum. Nigel everywhere he looked, everywhere he turned. Nigel in his arms and against his mouth and under his fingertips.

Adam tried, time and again, to tell Gabi the truth. To tell her that they’d lied to her.

But he had friends now, real, true friends. And he couldn’t let that go.

In the end, it was Nigel who told her.

\-----  
Adam had never been late for one of their dates before, but sometimes, he was prone to distraction. There’d been a new announcement on his news feed, information about water on Mars that Adam had been helpless to resist. He managed a text to let everyone know what had happened, but by the time he finally rolled up to the diner, he was twenty minutes late.

The diner was on a corner, down a side street, relatively secluded. Adam was nearly there when he heard the voices. For a moment, he sped up, eager to see Nigel, but as he drew closer to the argument, he hesitated. Frozen against a wall, he realized exactly what Nigel and Gabi were talking about.

“How long have you known?” Nigel’s voice was low, rough. Adam wanted to touch him, to see him, but something held him in place, some sinking, spiraling dread.

“Since the minute you told me. Nigel, anyone in the sciences can tell you about Adam. It would have been big news if he was dating anyone.”

“But you let me lie to you.”

“I was curious to see how far you would go. And, I thought, if you were willing to lie to me about a boyfriend, perhaps you really did just want to be my friend.”

“I did, Gabi, I do-”

“And then I met him.” Gabi interrupted Nigel, quick and sharp. Nigel stammered and then stopped speaking. “I met him,” Gabi continued, “And I saw the way you looked at him.”

“That’s not-“

“Does Adam know?”

“We’re just friends, Gabi, don’t-“

“Does Adam know you don’t want to be _his_ friend?”

A pause. “Don’t you dare tell him,” Nigel said, and whatever Gabi said in response was lost beyond the rush of blood in Adam’s ears. Oh. _Oh_.

Had it always been there, and he just hadn’t seen it? Dumb Adam. Dumb, dumb Adam. Too stupid to see what other people were thinking, projecting his own feelings onto everyone else.

Did Gabi feel the same? Did Charlie? Had Adam just been forcing himself on these people for months?

Frustration, pure and powerful and _aching_ , flooded through him. He smacked his fist against the brick wall, crying out as the sharp edges scraped his skin. The voices ground to a halt.

“Adam?”

Nigel came around the corner with a pinched look on his face, a deep frown that strengthened as a thin sliver of blood trickled down Adam’s wrist.

“Adam, darling, you’re hurt-“

“Don’t touch me!” Adam yanked himself backward, away from Nigel’s gentle hands and his dark eyes and his sharp-fanged smiles. Away away _away_. “You lied to me!”

Nigel looked pale. “Adam, I’m so sorry, I-“

“You lied to me! You’re a liar and I hate you! I hate you, I wish I’d never met you!”

Gabi stood a few feet away, one hand pressed to her mouth. “Adam-“ She tried, but Adam’s fury was just as much for her.

“You lied to me!” He yelled, “You tried to make me think he liked me! Dumb Adam, stupid Adam, no-friends Adam!”

Adam lashed out towards the wall again, only to have Nigel catch his fist and pull Adam into his arms.

“You don’t want to be my friend,” Adam sobbed, yanking at the tight grip on his wrist. “You don’t want to be my friend, this was all just… Just some _joke_ , haha, look at Adam, he’s so weird he doesn’t even know when people hate him!”

“Is that what you think this is?” Nigel whispered, low and rough against Adam’s temple, “Is that what you think I think of you? What you think of yourself?”

Adam blinked tears away. “I don’t know what else I’m supposed to think.”

Nigel laughed. It didn’t sound happy. He let go of Adam’s wrists, tangling long fingers through Adam’s hair and tilting his head back. “You could try thinking that I’ve fucking adored you since the minute I laid eyes on you.”

Adam blinked up at him. His brain seemed to have stopped entirely. “I don’t… _What?_ ”

“Fucking hell, Adam, do you have any idea how exhausting it would be to fake that sort of affection?”

“No,” Adam groused, “Because I wasn’t faking it.”

“Neither was I,” Nigel said, and kissed him.

This was not like the kisses from before, the play-acted affection from their mock-dates. This was real, this was intense. Nigel drew Adam in with an almost painful grip, pried his mouth open with a slick, demanding tongue.

Kissing was wet, it turned out. It was wet, and messy, and Adam _did not care_. He whimpered into Nigel’s mouth, clutching at his shirt with tight fists. When Nigel finally pulled back, they were both trembling with the force of it.

“I don’t… I don’t understand you,” Adam admitted. Nigel laughed and kissed him again, kissed him breathless until Adam had to push him back. “But Gabi said-“

“Adam,” Nigel said, mouthing the words against Adam’s jaw, “Adam Raki, you stubborn, beautiful little thing. I don’t want to be your friend, because I would very much like to be your boyfriend. For real, this time.”

“Oh,” Adam said, all other words lost. A few feet away, Gabi looked like she was laughing at them. Adam didn’t see what was so funny. Everything seemed very serious to him.

“Do we have a deal, angel?”

Adam thought about the last few months, about touching and studying, picnics in the park with their friends. “Kiss me again and I’ll tell you,” He said, impulsive and eager.

Nigel barked out a laugh, Adam’s favorite laugh. “Stubborn, _demanding_ , beautiful little thing.”

“I’m not little,” Adam told him, but the rest of his protest was lost to the soft heat of Nigel’s mouth.

**Author's Note:**

> Whew. This fic. This *fucking* fic. I scrapped it TWICE before I finally found my rhythm.
> 
> So, I offered to write a gift fic for Victorine, and she asked for SpaceDogs Fake Dating. I couldn't decide if I wanted to write 'I pretended to be your boyfriend to protect you at a bar' or 'Pretending to have an actual relationship.' So of course I did both!
> 
> For anyone who wondered, Nigel is definitely dealing drugs to stay in that apartment, and he definitely has friends in high places who watched Marcus Avery for the rest of his college career to make sure he never tried that shit again. He did not. 
> 
> I fucking love Gabi. I love Charlie. I love giving Adam friends.
> 
> I don't know that I have much to say about this. It's a bit cliche, especially how it ends, but I like it. There's some stuff I didn't get to use that I'm sad about, but it really is much too long at this point. I hope you had fun reading it!
> 
> Since tumblr imploded you can find me on [Twitter](https://www.twitter.com/stratumgermani1), where I talk about progress updates and answer questions about my fic.


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